


but a whisper from your lips (and i fall to my knees)

by sunderwear



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, M/M, Massage, Nude Photos, Porn with Feelings, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Underwear Kink, feat. victor's need to have something in his mouth/ass at all times, gross overuse of semicolons, lots of anal stuff ok, obscenely long sentences, sorta - Freeform, victor is a pillow princess, victor's Thing for yuuri's feet, victor's black thong makes an appearance, yuuri eating food sensually, yuuri just loves making victor happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunderwear/pseuds/sunderwear
Summary: He doesn’t feel like himself anymore, doesn’t feelhuman.  He feels like a toy.  He feelsused.Helovesit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> our bottom victor community on tumblr all agree that the yoi fandom is SORELY lacking in bottom vic stuff so here it is. bottom vic

Victor pushes into Yuuri slowly, relishing the way the tightness gives way around the head of his cock.  Beneath him, Yuuri gasps, hands fisting in sheets as the sensation overcomes him, and he stills once Victor is completely inside, adjusting.  When Victor gets the go ahead, he immediately sets a punishing pace, barely giving Yuuri time to adapt to the feeling of being fucked before it's cranked up to 100.  This is one of Victor’s favorite parts; when Yuuri is raw and open from the shock of being pounded into so suddenly, and he hasn't the presence of mind to keep himself quiet.  This is Yuuri at his least reserved, when he allows his instincts to take over and lets his body do what it wants.  This, Victor knows, is what he wants when Yuuri fucks him. 

 

\------------------

 

When it's over, Victor curls against Yuuri and basks in the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath his head.  Tracing patterns into his skin, Victor feels rather than hears Yuuri's breathing even out, a clear indicator that he’ll be falling asleep shortly.  Before he can, however, there's something Victor absolutely has to do.

 

“Mm… Yuuri?”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“You know that it doesn't always have to be that way, right?”

 

Yuuri squints slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, we can do something different if you want.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Well…”  Victor wonders what he can say that won't scare Yuuri off.  “We already have some toys... you know, kinky stuff like that.”

 

“Oh…”  Yuuri’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline, and Victor fearfully thinks he’s said too much. “Really?”

 

Victor raises his head to look at him.  “Of course. You only have to ask if you want to try anything, right?”

 

“Well, I guess, I just…  I don't know.  It's just always been this way?  I haven’t thought about it that much…”

 

Victor fights not to laugh at Yuuri's stream of consciousness, and he shakes his head as he says, “No, we can try anything you want.  I, for one, would love to switch it up.  If you're okay with it, of course.”

 

Yuuri considers for a moment, and then nods slowly.  Victor thinks he might see something flash across Yuuri's face as he nods - apprehension, maybe?  Excitement? - but he can't be sure, so he lets it slide.  

 

Soon, he's going to be very glad that he did. 

 

\-------------------

 

“Victor?”  Yuuri calls quietly from where he’s currently nestled into Victor’s side on the couch.  The light from the television in front of them bathes them in a white glow, and it gives Yuuri an ethereal quality, one that’s highlighted by the way shadows catch along the hollows under his eyes and beneath his cheeks.

 

“Yes, Yuuri?”  Yuuri’s beauty is stunning at the worst of times and absolutely awe-inspiring at the best, and Victor wonders if he’ll ever grow used to it.  He hopes not.

 

“If you don’t mind, I’d think I’d like to… change it up a bit now?” he declares tentatively, lifting his head from Victor’s shoulder, but finding this pointless when he can’t look Victor in the eye, anyways.  

 

“What do you mean?  Change what up?”

 

“Uh…”  his cheeks redden.  “You said you wanted to try new things…?”

 

Any misgivings Yuuri might have are assuaged a moment later by the brilliant smile that dominates Victor’s face.  “Of course, Yuuri,” he cooes.

 

Victor watches Yuuri as his eyes skitter around the room, reluctant to land on him for any more than a few seconds at a time.  Taking his hand, Victor raises it and presses his lips to the knuckles, attempting to convey some of his excitement.  

 

“So, um… there is something I’d like to try…  you might not like it, though.”

 

Victor has to employ a considerable amount of restraint to keep himself from blurting out that  _ yes _ , he honestly wants nothing more in this instant (or in general, really) than to be used as Yuuri’s sex toy.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Well… have you ever heard of-of service submission?”

 

Victor couldn’t have dreamt it better.

 

\--------------------------

 

Yuuri finishes packing up his skates and putting on his shoes.  Standing up, he pulls Victor down, a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and breathes into his ear, “I want to do it tonight.”

 

The shower Victor takes when he gets home is a new record for him.

 

\----------------

  
  


_ Eating...  Why is eating necessary? _ Victor wonders.  He had all but inhaled the last of his own food ten minutes ago, but now, Yuuri is still calmly working his way through his dessert.  Despite his mounting impatience, Victor was reluctant to push Yuuri to eat faster.  He very rarely allowed himself to indulge in any desserts, even though it felt like Victor reminded him that the occasional sweet wouldn’t hurt every other day.  And besides, it felt good to know that Yuuri deemed dominating Victor a special enough occasion for dessert.  

 

Victor had been ready to start immediately after they had both showered, but Yuuri had insisted on eating dinner.  When he started to complain, Yuuri had given him a look that said more than any words could, and he had promptly shut up.  The only things out of his mouth since then had either been to agree with Yuuri or to offer to do something for him.

 

_ There can only be about six… seven, bites left? _  Yuuri’s eating some gooey cherry thing that has somehow managed to perfectly paint his lips with shiny red, and Victor is pretty sure he can taste them through his eyes.  The undeniably filthy way that Yuuri wraps said lips around each bite before (ridiculously) slowly drawing the spoon back out of his mouth is not helping Victor’s condition.

 

(Symptoms of this condition include, but are not limited to: excessive staring, leg bouncing, shortness of breath, raised blood pressure, erections that last more than four hours, etc...)

 

After a small eternity, and Victor learning that he's capable of being jealous of food, Yuuri sets down his spoon and begins to gather his dishes.

 

“Here, I’ll get it,”  Victor offers, certain that it will get done faster if he does them himself.  His own have long since been cleaned and put away; in addition to never showering faster, he’s pretty sure that he’s never washed and dried anything faster in his life, either.  Yuuri thanks him, then stands and walks to the bedroom, leaving Victor to scrub furiously at the plates.

 

Finishing the dishes and practically sprinting to the bedroom, he pushes the door open to find Yuuri sitting cross legged on the bed, looking up at him.  His face is utterly neutral; not cold or disdaining, just indifferent.

 

It’s  _ exciting _ . 

 

The atmosphere in the room registers with Victor instantly.  Yuuri drags his gaze slowly up and down Victor’s body, appraising, and Victor suddenly wishes he had worn something a little nicer than an old t-shirt and sweatpants.  The way Yuuri’s eyes linger over the slight bulge in his pants sends heat spiking low in his gut.  He’s been in a state of vague arousal for what feels like millennia, although the arousal is becoming rapidly less vague.

 

“You've been very good so far,” Yuuri comments casually, and Victor blushes - actually  _ blushes _ \- and looks down at his feet, wondering how he became so sensitive to the words of one person.

 

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri beckons him.  “Come sit.”

 

Victor does, making as if to sit down on the bed, but is stopped by a soft  “No.”

 

He turns, confused, and sees Yuuri pointing to the floor in front of him.  “Sit here.”

 

The mere thought of kneeling at Yuuri's feet makes Victor's blush return in full, and he can feel himself hardening as he sinks to his knees.  Yuuri follows him, moving forward until he sits on the edge of the bed, bracketing Victor with his legs, and he weaves his fingers through his hair, petting it lovingly.  Victor tilts his head into it, a wave of calm flowing through him and whiting out his thoughts, smoothing over his body.  

 

With a soft tug, Yuuri raises Victor’s head so that he’s looking him in the eye.  “Do you remember what to do if you want to stop?”

 

Victor nods through the haze in his mind, finding it hard to focus on anything other than Yuuri’s hand in his hair, Yuuri’s cock inches from his face.

 

“Say it,” Yuuri commands, punctuating this with a much sharper tug.

 

“ _ Yes _ .” he gasps.

 

“Good.  Now, we can begin.”

 

A feeling of heavy weightlessness is spreading throughout Victor's body, paradoxical in that it both makes him feel like he's floating and anchors him to the ground.  He's fully hard now, and his erection presses against the front his sweatpants, but it's dulled somehow, not as sharp as he expects it to be. 

 

Yuuri shifts, pushing himself closer to Victor, and he thinks for a moment that Yuuri is going to ask him to suck his cock until he leans down. With a sharp pull to Victor's hair, Yuuri tips Victor's head back and presses their lips together softly.  Unsure as to what he should be doing, he relaxes and lets Yuuri take charge.  

 

A few seconds tick by, and an odd feeling fills his mind, mushy and hard to identify.  It takes him a moment to realize that he’s confused - confused that Yuuri’s lips still rest passively against his, barely kissing him.  It’s so chaste, in fact, that he can’t remember the last time he kissed Yuuri so innocently, hardly a brush of lips.  Its unusual, to say the least, and Victor grows more concerned with every second.  Was Yuuri not getting into this like Victor was?  Was he nervous?

 

Any inkling that Yuuri might be nervous is swiftly swept away when Victor feels something prodding his thigh, soft and clumsy, and his breath hitches when he recognizes Yuuri’s toes curling against his skin.  They slide up and down the inside of his thigh, trickling sensation through his skin, coming steadily closer to his groin with each sweep.  Jolts of pleasure roll through his veins, sweet and syrupy, stemming from where Yuuri’s toes brush his leg, and at one particularly firm slide, he whines a high, breathy sound into Yuuri’s mouth.

 

The foot stills immediately, and the lips pull away.

 

Victor whimpers.  He clenches his fist to keep from reaching out, the sense of loss making his chest ache, but Yuuri is there with his palm against his cheek and a hushing sound on his tongue.  

 

And suddenly, Victor’s swimming; his body floats in honey, making his movements slow and languid.  In an instant, the world outside of this moment becomes wholly irrelevant, completely under the spell Yuuri has woven around him.  All he needs is whatever Yuuri needs, and that’s all he wants, too.  In this instant, he knows that he could spend the rest of his life between Yuuri’s legs and beneath his lips, and never be anything but happy.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri calls, and Victor looks up at Yuuri hopefully.

 

Snagging his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants, Yuuri pulls them down just enough to reveal his cock, heavy and dark between his legs.  Victor has to actively restrain himself from immediately sucking him into his mouth, the knowledge that he has to do what Yuuri tells him barely winning out over the desire to have him stretching his lips and sliding over his tongue.  

 

Yuuri takes himself in hand, stroking lazily and leaning his weight back on his other hand so that his body is spread wide.  “Do you want to touch me, Victor?”

 

Victor whines, hands curling into fists in anticipation.  He needs to touch Yuuri, so badly it  _ aches _ .  “ _ Please _ .”

 

Yuuri’s grin is sweet and fond when he answers.  “Too bad.”

 

Biting his lip, Victor feels disappointment cloud his pleasure, all mixing with his need to get his hands on Yuuri.  But this isn’t about what he wants; this is for Yuuri.  He nods slowly, eyes downcast.  

 

He hears Yuuri shift, and then feels a finger tilting his chin up so that he’s looking into soft brown eyes.  Victor sees in them that he’s the center of the universe; his emptiness washes away.  

 

“Now, don’t get upset, Victor,” Yuuri tells him.  “You know that I’ll take care of you.”

 

Victor nods eagerly; he  _ does  _ know that he’ll take care of him.  He always does. 

 

Yuuri grins, satisfied that Victor is reassured, and leans back into his previous position.  This time, instead of stroking himself, he holds his cock at the base, displaying it to Victor, and Victor’s breath hitches at his intense desire to have him in his mouth.  There are truly few things he loves more than sucking Yuuri’s cock; he would do it all day, if Yuuri would ever let him.

 

Thankfully, this is something Yuuri is well aware of.  Victor’s cheeks are flushed and his lips are parted as he stares at where Yuuri is gripping himself; Yuuri takes note.  “You can’t touch me… but I suppose you can suck my cock.”

 

Elated, Victor lifts his hand and leans in, but - no.  Yuuri said not to touch him.  It’s never crossed his mind before, but now that he thinks about it, giving a blowjob without the use of his hands might turn out to be fairly difficult, even despite his immense skill and experience.  More carefully this time, he leans back in, even making sure to sit on his hands so that he doesn’t forget himself and reach out.  

 

Placing a small kiss to the dampened tip, he hears Yuuri lean back on both hands, content to let Victor work unguided.  Victor doesn’t need to look up to know that Yuuri will be looking at him; just as he never takes his eyes off of Yuuri, Yuuri will never look away from Victor.  

 

Victor immediately takes Yuuri into his mouth, moaning at the heaviness on his tongue.  Not using his hands only requires him to move his head more, and Victor is enthusiastic enough that it barely hinders him.  With only a few bobs of his head, Victor is pulling as much of his cock into his mouth as he can, having to fight his gag reflex when the head pushes into his throat.  A particularly harsh push does make Victor gag, and an instant later, Yuuri fists his hand in Victor’s hair and pulls him off his cock, petting his hair as he gasps and coughs.  “Go  _ slow _ , love.”

 

Nodding, Victor waits for the okay as Yuuri settles back on his hands.  He’s incredibly hard, and he’s fairly sure that pants have never been so uncomfortable in his life, but he also feels so utterly at peace that he can’t be bothered.  

 

Yuuri tells him to go ahead, and sighs contentedly as Victor leans back in and (slowly) licks softly at the tip, brushing away the drop of precome that has collected over the slit.  He lets the flavor spread over his tongue, savoring.  It makes him feel claimed, like swallowing Yuuri’s come means that Yuuri has marked him as his.  He  _ is _ Yuuri’s; he wants Yuuri to take him.

 

Victor begins to kiss down the underside of Yuuri’s cock.  The kisses are wet and sloppy and slow, enough so that when he reaches the place where his cock connects to his balls, Yuuri’s skin is hot and slick with spit, and he lets out a shaky groan when Victor presses the last one to his skin.  Victor is ready to take Yuuri into his mouth now, but Yuuri said to go  _ slow _ , and Victor wants to be good for him, so he takes his time as he presses the same kisses back up to the tip.  As much as he wants his mouth to be full, he loves this; loves pressing his lips to Yuuri’s soft, warm skin, loves watching his toes curl and his stomach clench as he worships him the way he deserves to be worshipped.  

 

When he reaches the top again, he’s pleased to find the tip wet from more than just Victor’s mouth.  With a soft moan of his own, Victor wraps his lips around the head, tasting the salty tang of precome and Yuuri’s skin.  The taste, his position on the floor, and Yuuri’s soft sounds above him all go directly to his cock, throbbing in his pants, but he wouldn’t dare touch himself.  He’s sure Yuuri would have told him to do so if he wanted him to.  Instead, Victor focuses on his task.  

 

He slides his lips around the tip, bobbing with no suction behind it, occasionally dragging his tongue over Yuuri’s slit, forcing out little gasps with every swipe.  He eventually adds suction, taking him in deeper and deeper with each bob of his head.  He can’t contain the pleased whimper that escapes him when he feels Yuuri’s cock hit the back of his throat.  Above him, Yuuri tips his head back and moans sweetly; Victor feels it trickle down his spine and pulse in his gut.  

 

Finally taking Yuuri all the way down to the base, he sucks and curls his tongue around the shaft as best he can.  Yuuri gasps, and Victor feels him buck up into his mouth - a short, broken-off move, but Victor groans in reassurance, sucking harder to try to get Yuuri to move again.  Yuuri supports himself with one hand and curls the fingers of the other into Victor’s hair.  He pushes his hips against Victor’s mouth at the same time as he pulls down on his head, forcing his cock into the back of Victor’s throat, taking his pleasure as he wants.  

 

Victor couldn’t be happier.  

 

He contentedly lets his throat and mouth be used, pleasure rolling through him at every sound Yuuri makes.  It makes Victor so happy, the knowledge that  _ he  _ is the reason Yuuri’s making those noises;  _ he  _ is what’s pleasing him.  Pleasing Yuuri is more fulfilling than landing any jump, and makes him prouder than any medal ever could.

 

Victor revels in the feeling of Yuuri fucking his mouth for a few long moments, until Yuuri suddenly pulls him off his cock with a wet pop.  He’s panting, and now that Victor takes the time to look, he sees that Yuuri’s toes are curled and his abdomen tense; he was about to come.  

 

Pushing away the ache in his chest caused by the emptiness of his mouth, he looks up hopefully at Yuuri, waiting.

 

Yuuri takes a second to come down off his high, his breath evening out.  He smiles fondly at Victor and strokes a hand through his hair, straightening his part back out and smoothing it down.

 

“You were very good, Victor.  Thank you.”

 

Victor whimpers, pushing his head into Yuuri’s hand and scrunching his nose, desperate.  He needs to touch Yuuri, he needs to keep pleasing him, he -

 

“What?  Is there something you want?”

 

With another needy whine, he nods frantically, willing Yuuri to understand.

 

“You have to tell me what it is, Victor, or else I can’t help you.”

 

Victor takes a deep breath, lets it shutter out of him.  “I want - I  _ need  _ \- “

 

“Come on, just tell me.”

 

He takes another breath, gathering himself.  “I want to touch you, Yuuri,  _ please… _ ”

 

Yuuri hmms and considers for a moment.  His cock is still on display between his unfortunately clothed thighs, and Victor pulses between his legs when he thinks about how it was stuffing his throat not moments ago.

 

Suddenly, Yuuri, snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up.  “Ah, I know what you can do Victor.  My back and shoulders have been really tense lately - do you think you could help me with that?”

 

Victor nods; he would love nothing more than to help him with that.

 

With a smile, Yuuri stands up and pushes his shorts and underwear the rest of the way down his legs.  “You know where the oil is, right?”

 

Victor hums in affirmation before standing up with a wince.  His muscles have always been quick to stiffen and cramp, and he knows he’s not as young as he used to be, but the fact that he veritably hobbles to the bathroom is nonetheless disturbing.

 

When he returns with the oil (lavender scented: Yuuri’s favorite), Yuuri is sprawled face-down on the bed, blessedly and frustratingly naked.  Victor comes to join him, this time straddling his hips.  Most of the time, he wants to thank every deity he can think of for Yuuri’s perfect, perky ass, but right now, it’s taking everything he has not to grind against it.  He has no idea how he’s going to last through the entire massage.  

 

He drips some oil across Yuuri’s upper back and shoulders and smears it into his skin, filling the room with a flowery haze.  Yuuri has, for as long as Victor has known him, always carried a ridiculous amount of tension in his back and shoulders, and he’s lost count of how many times Yuuri has lain under him like this, letting Victor ease the tension from his body.  

 

Starting about halfway down his back, Victor works his fingers into the stiffened muscle, working his way from Yuuri’s spine out to his sides.  When he comes across a particularly tough spot, he digs in with his knuckles, hearing Yuuri grunt in discomfort.  Unrelenting, he maintains the pressure until it gives way, and Victor is pretty sure he could live off of the memory of Yuuri’s relieved sigh when it loosens under his touch.  

 

Moving steadily upwards toward Yuuri’s shoulders, he repeats the process, cherishing every sound that slips past his lips.  Whenever Victor reaches a tight spot, Yuuri tenses, which makes his hips raise off the bed slightly and pushes his plush ass against Victor’s crotch.  The first time this happens, he barely keeps himself from pushing back against him, and a whine forces its way out when he has to focus on holding still to stop from doing so; after a few times of Yuuri tensing and Victor freezing up behind him, Yuuri catches on.

 

When he’s just finishing untangling the last of the knots in Yuuri’s shoulders, Yuuri starts to wiggle.  Victor bites out a sharp exhale, forcing his body not to seek out the friction, his thighs straining with the effort.

 

“Ah, that felt so good, Victor…”  Yuuri purrs.  Pushing past the haze in his mind, he sees that Yuuri is stretching beneath him, pressing his hips back into Victor’s own.  With every addition of pressure, Victor can feel his control slipping - he’s just been so  _ hard _ for so  _ long _ , and he really  _ really _ wants to keep still, for Yuuri, but - 

 

“Please, Yuuri…”

 

The pressure relents.  “Please, what?”

 

“Please - don’t tease me like that, I can’t -”

 

Yuuri twists his head to look back at Victor, smirking coyly.  “Can’t you take it?” he asks, grinding back again.

 

Victor groans, pleasure spiking up his spine and nearly breaking his tenuous control.  “ _ Please…” _

 

Yuuri suddenly makes like he's sitting up, and Victor scrambles off of him, relieved to not be so close to making a mistake. 

 

Yuuri crosses his legs and makes the same concentrated face that he wore earlier when trying to decide how Victor could touch him.  With interest, Victor notes that his erection has not flagged in the slightest, and shudders when he imagines it filling him in a very different way.

 

Victor is apparently not as subtle as he thinks he is (although, to be fair, when has he ever tried to be?), because Yuuri notices this, too.  Also apparent is the fact that Victor's shudder is easy to read, because a moment later, Yuuri asks, “Do you want something in you, Victor?”

 

With a whimper, Victor looks down at his lap and nods, a pretty flush high on his cheeks.  

 

“O-kay,” Yuuri sing-songs happily, moving off of the bed.

 

That was certainly not what Victor was expecting.  Curious, he watches as Yuuri crosses the room to Victor's bedside table, opening the very bottom drawer and taking out -  _ yes  _ \- Victor's favorite toy.  

 

The plug is finely-crafted, clear glass, a good size, and inlaid at the base with a soft pink crystal.  Out of all of his toys, this one is certainly the most expensive and best-loved.  It’s kept him company through many a lonely night, a fact attributed to the way the plug hits all the right spots inside him.

 

Yuuri pulls the lube out of the top drawer along with the plug, and returns to Victor with both in hand.  

 

“On your hands and knees,” Yuuri orders blithely, and it thrills up Victor’s spine.

 

Cracking open the tube, Yuuri surveys Victor’s ass, now raised high off the bed, and hums contentedly.  Yuuri has never seen Victor quite like this - his body, normally strong and solid, is now malleable, allowing even the smallest word from Yuuri’s lips to shape it.  The power is equal parts intoxicating and frightening; Yuuri wants nothing more than to show Victor how precious and perfect he is, and he’s terrified of doing it wrong.

 

With slow, gentle fingers, he rolls the waistband of Victor’s sweatpants down over his thighs, careful not to take the underwear with it.  It’s relieving to have them off, but it isn’t enough - not when the real culprit is the tight, black thong, pulled taut over Victor’s straining erection, the head peeking out of the low-cut fabric.  Yuuri grins to himself when he sees how the strap hugs the cleft of Victor’s ass, hooking one finger under it and letting it snap back, relishing the way Victor flinches and squeaks at the sharp sensation.  

 

After he’s coated the fingers of one hand with lube, he pulls the strap aside again, this time pinning it off to the side with the thumb of his free hand.  Not bothering to warm the lube any, he sets just the tip of his finger against Victor’s hole. The touch is electric; Victor shivers with it.

 

Starting out slowly, Yuuri pushes his fingertip in just past the tight ring of muscle, twisting it back and forth gently before pulling it back out to pour more lube over his finger.  Impatient, Victor whines, silently willing Yuuri to put something,  _ anything  _ back in him.  He wants, so  _ badly _ ; the thong trapping his aching cock and the fingers and plug that are  _ right there _ but not  _ in him _ are driving him absolutely  _ wild _ .

 

Yuuri finally pushes back in, only a little farther this time, and it does nothing to relieve Victor.  His hips push back, unable to stop them even if he wanted to, but Yuuri follows the motion with his hand, so only the first digit of his finger remains inside him.  Victor keens, the desperation overwhelming; Yuuri soothes him with a soft kiss on the small of his back.  

 

“Patience, sweetie.  Remember, I’ll take care of you,” Yuuri reassures him.  “Just relax.”

 

Victor tosses his head, but tries to stifle his whines.  He feels strung-out; need courses through him, scorching his veins relentlessly and leaving him raw and exposed.  His skin feels like it’s flaming, and he’s almost glad that Yuuri hasn’t warmed the lube.

 

Behind him, Yuuri curls his finger slightly deeper into him, and it’s  _ still  _ not enough.  Steeling himself, Victor whimpers.  He can do it.   _ Be patient, for Yuuri. _

 

After a few too-long moments, Yuuri’s finger is almost completely inside him, and he thrusts it in and out a few times for good measure before pulling it out completely.  This time, he’s ready; at Victor’s needy whimper, he shushes him calmly, letting his thong snap back in place so that he can pet Victor’s side, giving him something to ground himself on.  

 

“Only a little while longer, sweetheart, you’re being so good for me…”

 

Yuuri coats a second finger and prods Victor’s entrance, pressing in with less patience this time.  He knows that Victor wants to feel it, so he lets him; he curls his fingers back and forth, opening him up forcefully, and Victor moans heavily in his relief, falling down to support himself with his elbows on the bed.  

 

Yuuri tsks behind him.  “I said  _ hands  _ and knees, Victor.  Get back up,” 

 

He does, and his arms shake with the effort of keeping him up when the weight of his pleasure is making him weak.  Yuuri hums happily.  Victor -  _ his _ Victor - is so beautiful like this, open and raw and needy, begging for his touch.  With a twist of his fingers, he crosses them while they're still buried inside Victor, who groans at the increased stretch.   

 

Searchingly, Yuuri brushes his fingertips along Victor's walls, slipping over the place around where his prostate should be.  He strokes -  _ once, twice _ \-  and Victor tenses, rutting back against Yuuri's hand and keening sharply.  His fingers tease over the spot gently, and Victor’s panting breaths turn into short  _ ah _ s, punching out a staccato rhythm with every light touch.

 

Yuuri removes his fingers, sliding easily through the excess lube.  The heavy feeling of emptiness replaces them as they go, and Victor’s about to cry out when he notices Yuuri reaching for the plug laying on the bed a few feet away.  

 

Relief floods through him when he feels the cool, slick head of the glass against his hole, and his arms threaten to give out again.  Working it in gently, Yuuri puts pressure on the pink jewel with his thumb, forcing Victor’s hole to stretch around the widening plug.  Victor groans when it finally pops all the way in, leaving only the crystal exposed.  Unable to stop himself, he wiggles his hips, moaning when it rubs over his walls, sending sweet pulses of pleasure through his abdomen.  

 

Yuuri sits back to admire the way the pretty pink crystal catches the light, a cute little button to cover Victor’s needy hole.  Still holding the thong back, he pulls the strap taut.  Eyes hungry, he let’s go, watching as it snaps back into place, directly over the base of the plug.  

 

Victor flinches at the sudden sensation, then groans.  The front of the thong rubs friction against Victor’s shaft, and the force of it snapping back jars the plug, jostling it inside him.  The only thing Victor can focus on is feeling; the feeling of Yuuri’s hands on him, the feeling of the plug inside him, the pleasure that clouds his mind.  

 

Yuuri pats his butt twice before leaning back, still enjoying the view of the thong stretching over the bulging plug.  He wants Victor to stay like this forever, so submissive and wants to save this, somehow - 

 

Wait.

 

“Victor?”  Yuuri cooes sweetly.  Victor grunts what might be a “hmm?” in response.

 

“Will you get my phone for me, please?  It’s on the nightstand.”

 

Victor can feel every square millimeter of the solid glass inside him as he sits back, massaging his walls relentlessly when he crawls across the bed to the nightstand.  As he stretches to reach Yuuri’s phone, the plug finds a new angle and presses firmly into his prostate.  He gasps, the arm he’s supporting himself on threatening to give out, and he almost misses the phone completely.  What does Yuuri want it for, anyways?  He’s not going to leave Victor like this while he checks his Instagram, is he?

 

Returning to Yuuri’s side, he hands over the phone and sits down, gasping as the increased pressure on the base of the plug stretches him.

 

Yuuri thanks Victor and starts messing with the phone, tapping a few things before he tells Victor to get back on his hands and knees.  He goes willingly, and hopes his arms still have enough strength to support him.  

 

“No, no,” Yuuri assures him, “You can go down on your elbows now, if you want.”  Yuuri assures him.

 

Victor collapses onto his forearms gratefully, his back curved and legs spread wider, presenting his ass to Yuuri - oh.  So that's why he wanted his phone.

 

A moment later, Victor's suspicions are confirmed when he hears a shutter noise emanate from Yuuri's phone.  A combination of good genes and years of skating has blessed him with a gorgeous ass, and he arches his back further, pleased at Yuuri’s appreciation.  A few shutter sounds later, and Yuuri pulls the fabric back again, then photographs the exposed plug.  The black of the thong contrasts sharply with the gentle pink of the crystal and Victor’s porcelain skin, and makes the whole thing seem dirtier, somehow.  

 

Throughout the whole process, Victor only lies with his head against his arms, floating.  His arousal seems far away, insignificant in the face of Yuuri’s hands on him, even if they aren’t touching to please.  As long as Yuuri is happy, then so is he, and if he wants to take pictures of him, then he can do that until the end of time, as far as Victor is concerned.

 

An indeterminable amount of time later, Victor blearily realizes that Yuuri is replacing his phone on the nightstand.  He watches between his legs as Yuuri comes up behind him and hooks his fingers in the waistband of his thong, and finally -  _ finally  _ \- rolls it down Victor’s thighs, pulling it off completely when Victor lifts each knee from the bed.  Victor releases a satisfied groan, relieved to be free of the thing, and a moment later, he feels Yuuri spreading his cheeks wide.

 

Yuuri sighs, and pushes at the plug slightly just to watch Victor squirm.  “Well, I hate to see it go, but I think it’s time we filled you up with something else, don’t you?”

 

Victor whimpers, nodding rapidly and pushing back against Yuuri’s hand, urging him to take it out if it means he gets Yuuri’s cock next.  

 

He feels Yuuri gripping the base, feels him slowly easing it out of him.  Despite knowing that once it comes out he’ll get something better, Victor’s hole tenses around the plug as it leaves him, desperate to keep it in.  

 

It comes completely out with a wet  _ schlick _ , and Victor is immediately wiggling his hips and whining, pleading for Yuuri to fuck him, to fill him to the brim and chase away the hollow emptiness he feels without him.  Victor’s always happiest when Yuuri fills him up, and the waiting has made his need razor sharp.

 

Yuuri strokes a hand down Victor’s back and gives him a pat.  Victor hears the click of the bottle of lube opening, and looks back just in time to see Yuuri taking his cock in his lube-slicked hand, shuddering at the touch and groaning shakily.  He works the lube into his skin and calls, “Sit back up, please.”

 

Victor does, kneeling on the bed, and Yuuri lays down almost in the same spot that Victor had just vacated.  Smiling up at him, Yuuri asks, “Would you like to ride me, Victor?”

 

Victor nods, and he’s desperate enough for it that he finds his voice.  “Yes, yes  _ please _ , Yuuri - “

 

Yuuri cuts him off with a chuckle.  “Okay, okay, you can.  But first, I want a kiss.”

 

Eager, Victor bends and steals Yuuri’s lips, but lets him control it.  Yuuri kisses him sweetly, one hand stroking Victor’s hair and the other cupping his cheek.  Victor feels his heart stutter, swelling with how tender Yuuri is for him.

 

Yuuri releases him a long moment later.  “Alright, sweetheart, go ahead.”

 

Victor climbs into Yuuri's lap and reaches back for his cock, and wonders if Yuuri can feel his hand shaking from the anticipation.  With a soft sigh, he presses the stiff head against his hole and lowers himself down, and - wow.  Yuuri is achingly hard; Victor wonders how he's waited so long without touching himself, and his own cock throbs in sympathy.  

 

A moment later, the feeling of being filled overcomes him.  His focus narrows to the spot where Yuuri joins him, sharp as a blade.  He can't contain his voice, and a low moan fights it's way out of his throat as he sinks down completely.  This is how it’s supposed to be - not with fingers or toy, but with Yuuri’s cock.  Sitting with his ass pressed against Yuuri's hips and thighs, he can't help circling his hips around while he adjusts, bathing in the feeling of Yuuri's cock pressing into every point inside of him.  He feels so  _ full,  _ practically overflowing, and the sensation is so raw and so  _ much _ that he whimpers low in the back of his throat and grinds down, trying to get as much of Yuuri in him as possible.  

 

Yuuri’s moan, when it comes, is soft and shuddery, and Victor can feel his thighs flexing beneath him, demanding.  Victor pulls himself up slowly, savoring the dragging slide, until he’s almost completely empty, and then forces himself back down, unwilling to lose the satisfying fullness.  Twin gasps are drawn from each of their lips, and Victor tips his head back as he starts riding Yuuri in earnest.  His hands rest against Yuuri’s abdomen, and he can feel every quivering clench of the muscles there.  Victor’s legs are cramped and stiff from being folded for so long, but he pushes his thighs to work harder, lifting him up and slamming back down and forcing the pace to remain steady.  As long as he’s pleasing Yuuri, nothing else matters.

 

Victor feels light, lighter than a feather, light as air.  He’s floating away, he can’t keep himself tied down - just up and up and up, unable to keep himself grounded.

 

Unable to keep himself with Yuuri. 

 

He’s supposed to be pleasing him, and he thinks he is, but his head is too fuzzy and this doesn’t feel  _ right  _ \- he’s doing what he was told, he is, but it’s still not - he just - 

 

“Victor?”

 

Yuuri looks up at him, confusion and concern written plainly on his face, and Victor realizes guiltily that he’s stopped moving.  

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Victor stumbles through his words. “I just - Yuuri, I need - “

 

Yuuri cups his cheek, stroking a thumb across the high arch of his cheekbone, and looks at him like he knows.

 

“Victor, do you want me to fuck you?”

 

_ Yes.  _   Yes, that is exactly what he wants.

 

He tells him so.

 

And suddenly, Yuuri is sitting up, guiding Victor off of him and onto his knees and elbows again and Yuuri is lining up and pushing back into him, hot and  _ searing _ \-  _ yes, God, yes _ \- 

 

Yuuri’s fingers grapple at Victor’s hips, fingertips pressing hard into his skin, and he wastes no time before starting to fuck into him, hauling Victor back against him with a grunt.  Every thrust blows through him, hot and charged and precise as a lightning strike.

 

Victor loses all capacity to think.  All he can do is feel.  He feels Yuuri thrusting into him,  _ pounding,  _ and it’s hard and so  _ fast  _ that Victor can hardly distinguish one thrust from the next; they melt into each other, and he’s a hot bundle of excited nerves, stimulated incessantly.   _ This  _ is the way it should be; this is  _ right _ , with Yuuri taking from him, completely uninhibited and without reservation.  This is exactly what he was looking for.

 

Behind him, Yuuri can only pant heavily, harsh breaths forcing through his lips from the exertion.  Victor is no better off; his head hangs between his arms, which are shaking despite practically being laid flat on the bed, and his mouth falls open as if to make a sound, but the only things that struggle out of him are choked, half-strangled gasps.  He doesn’t feel like himself anymore, doesn’t feel  _ human. _ He feels like a toy.  He feels  _ used _ .

 

He  _ loves  _ it.

 

He can feel the pressure building in his gut, the throb in his cock; Yuuri has been fucking him so deep and hard that he’s hitting Victor’s prostate more often than he’s not, and it’s pushing him to the edge.  As he gets closer, he starts to come back to himself again.  He gets louder, gasping  _ ah _ s and keening when a handful of Yuuri’s thrusts hammer his prostate in quick succession.  Yuuri is getting close, too, and the tempo he sets jumps around as he leans down, wrapping a hand around Victor’s neglected cock.

 

Victor jerks at the feeling of Yuuri’s hand on him after waiting so long, whimpering, then chokes on a scream as Yuuri strokes him and drives into him at just the right angle, and he leans over him and whispers, “Come for me, Vitya.”

 

The sensations crash over him, and his back arches up with a violent jerk, as if he’s being shocked.  He comes,  _ hard,  _ thick strings of come spilling over Yuuri’s hand, easing its path as he continues to pump him, milking every last drop of pleasure from Victor’s body.  

A moment later, Yuuri slams into him one last time and groans.  Victor is too far gone to notice.  Vaguely, he senses Yuuri pulling out of him, and with a sigh and an ignored protest niggling at the back of his mind at being empty once more, Victor closes his eyes.

 

\----------------

 

When Victor opens his eyes again, he has no idea how much time has passed.  He hadn’t fallen asleep, exactly; he just fell into some kind of trance, where his mind had floated peacefully, detached from his body.  He’s been rolled onto his back and wiped down, a fact he has deduced from the distinctly un-sticky feeling of his skin and the damp washcloth on the floor next to him.  Most importantly, though, is that Yuuri is not currently there with him, and that is definitely not okay.

 

He’s just about to call out when Yuuri walks into the room, underwear-clad and bearing a glass of water.  Surprise and happiness and worry chase each other across his face when he sees Victor, and he quickly crosses the room takes a seat next to him on the bed, offering the water.  Victor takes it and drinks, realizing as he does just how thirsty he is, and drains it before setting it down and sitting up fully.  

 

Yuuri’s face seems to have settled on concern.  “Are you okay?” he asks tentatively.  “You looked like you fell asleep, but when I tried to wake you up, you just sort of grunted…”

 

Victor laughs and smiles sunnily at him.  “I’ve never been better.”

 

“Was any of it too much?”

 

“Not at all.”  Victor lies back on the bed, pleased to note that a pillowcase has been placed over where Victor’s come had landed.  He’s certainly not about to leave the bed so that the sheets can be changed; they can do that tomorrow.  For now, Victor pats the space beside him, and Yuuri sinks into it without a moment’s hesitation, reaching back to pull the covers over them both and wrapping his arms around Victor when he curls up against Yuuri’s side and lays his head on his chest.

 

Victor sighs, satisfied and content.  “Thank you,” he says quietly.

 

Yuuri snorts.  “I should be the one thanking you.  That massage was great.”  He presses his lips into Victor’s hair, and says, softer,  “You were so good.  So, so good.”

 

Victor closes his eyes, feels Yuuri’s chest rise and fall beneath his head, feels his heartbeat beneath his palm.

 

“I’m glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO I hope this isn't as bad as it probably is, being my first smut fic and not very thoroughly edited, but it's worth it for that bottom vic. 
> 
> title is SHAMELESSLY stolen from the song [Hot Mic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxSJB42oOgA) by the best band in history, the Tragically Hip
> 
> (come celebrate bottom victor with me on tumblr at [subvic](https://subvic.tumblr.com/), or come jam with me about whatever on my main blog, [viktornykyforov](https://viktornykyforov.tumblr.com/))


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